Chapter 407: The Course of History and Being Ahead of It
After Agamemnon intervened in the Scholar’s Guild, the councilors also realized just how much power a guild under their control could unleash.
Of course, they knew that Agamemnon was using the Scholar’s Guild to hollow out the authority of the nobility.
But what could they do? The army was in Agamemnon’s hands, the Church stood behind him, and Agamemnon was implementing everything right under their noses, step by step.
Agamemnon had vaguely hinted to the councilors that the Kingdom possessed three fully staffed legions and was simultaneously forming five knight orders collectively known as the Five-Colored Dragon Knight Order.
Julian had brought only half of the First Legion, and a single Red Dragon Knight Order.
Even if that claim might have been exaggerated, after witnessing how swiftly Doyle Territory was wiped out, they dared not question it.
What happened in Doyle Territory was not only a demonstration of the correct use of guild personnel—it was also a show of force.
From a different perspective, they realized that under this new system, unless one had the strength to destroy a nation alone, the new system was utterly crushing compared to the old noble hierarchy.
Like a boulder rolling down a mountain—those nobles who tried to stop it were nothing but weeds crushed beneath it.
They believed that even a land like Adrian Territory, led by the hero Richard, would be wiped out by the Kingdom's army in three to five days, so long as the Church didn’t interfere.
Since they already stood at the dividing line of this era, why not ride the wave into the next? At least they could survive—and perhaps even gain greater benefits.
Thus, with their perspective shifted, they settled comfortably into their seats.
And adapted quickly.
The guilds were now the primary drivers, allowing even viscounts and barons like them to wield a portion of royal authority.
So, setting aside their noble identities for the time being and raising their status as officials, the councilors racked their brains to extend the system of parallel roles, assigning a role to everyone they could.
For instance, among bards: some excelled at guiding, some at listening, some at inspiring, and some at praising.
Among merchants, there were those who traveled across many lands and nations, those operating in adjacent territories, and those confined to a single domain. Extend it further, and there were even the producers of goods—shouldn't they be considered part of the merchant system too?
As for warriors—could they not be categorized by sword users, axe users, spear users, fist-fighters, and even farmers wielding tools in the fields? Didn’t their physical strength also meet the standards of Tier Two Warriors?
Naturally, Hastings made adjustments to his Thieves’ Guild.
Who said only pickpockets could be called thieves? Hadn't courtesans also played the role of thieves before? And what about laborers? And so on and so forth.
Who among the lower classes had never stolen?
In York City, right under his watch, his thieves’ network of informants was the densest.
Take the parallel role of the “courtesans,” for example—packaged by him and labeled as Tier Two Nightingales. These women could easily drain a noble of a thousand gold coins in a single night.
The Kingdom centralized power, the councilors acted as proxies of royal authority, and the guilds became tools of this centralization. At each node of these tools of centralization were the parallel-role guild members.
Together, they wove a web that penetrated every corner of the Kingdom—both solid and fragile, yet like the wind, all-pervasive.
Feeling this daily and tangible expansion of power, how could the councilors possibly restrain their excitement?
Now, they even saw a marquis with subordinate nobles as nothing more than a lamb waiting to be slaughtered.
Yet, while they eagerly discussed how to “clean up” the woodland nobles, Agamemnon’s smile masked a lack of true satisfaction in his heart.
The bureaucratic interest body had been fully formed, with power extending downward like a web, drawing nutrients from every insect it caught, spinning more threads, and continually weaving the web tighter.
But a meticulous web didn't just catch behemoths like nobles—at a certain density, even commoners couldn’t escape.
And at that point, what would be the difference from the old days of the Old Testament Era?
Was it not merely replacing nobles with officials?
Yet Agamemnon knew this step was inevitable. At the very least, where nobles once had no natural predators, these officials could still be checked by other forces. And under this new web, commoners were far better off than when they were treated as private property.
Having personally pushed things this far, Agamemnon now had a deeper understanding of what the Pope once said about the foresight of the now-lost Saint’s Manuscript of the Theocracy.
But, if the Pope had called it “ahead of its time,” then—did that mean what was written in that manuscript truly was the future?
Agamemnon smiled and nodded in response to a councilor’s comment, but his thoughts wandered:
If the absence of nobles, and the transfer of the right to commune with the Lord to the common people, is the true future—then should these new ‘nobles’ not vanish just like the old ones did?
And at the core of these new nobles—was it not this very Senate?
Or rather, the people within it.
Including himself.
In York City, the nobles from the Woodlands began a frenzy of celebration with the gold they brought.
Meanwhile, the nobles outside York City were tense.
The rapid changes in the past few days had left them reeling.